


Children of the Forest

by FantasiaWandering



Series: Children of the Forest [2]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Family, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasiaWandering/pseuds/FantasiaWandering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only a fool would flee into the Demon Wood, but April, pursued by the minions of the Lord who took her father and would now take her life, is left with little choice. But just when all seems lost, four green demons come to her aid, and she learns that that there is light to be found in the darkest forest, and that family can be found in the unlikeliest places. Fantasy AU with Nicollini</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_This is the first thing that's not my idea, and I realize that for someone who doesn't really like AU's, I'm writing an awful lot of them. But when I first saw[Nicollini](http://nicollini.tumblr.com/tagged/fantasy%20au)'s Robin-hood-esque AU drawings, I wanted to write the story so badly it hurt. And wonder of wonders, she let me. So here it is. Now run to nicollini on tumblr and look up her tmnt-au tag to see the gloriousness of her illustrations. The ideas and character design are hers. I just put all the pieces together._

* * *

**Children of the Forest: Chapter 1**

Sleep, fleeting and elusive, was to be denied her again, it seemed. April sighed as she stared up at the canopy above her bed, the rich embroidery illuminated at unpredictable intervals by the intrusive flickers of lightning. First it was the dreams, then the unending cycle of thoughts in her head, and now even the weather conspired to keep rest from her. Thunder cracked again, shaking the walls and the bed beneath her, and she couldn't keep back the sting of tears from her eyes. When she had been younger, she had run to her father during storms like this, seeking comfort in the warmth of his arms. But now there was no such relief. For her father had kissed her goodbye all those months ago, and set out to negotiate peace with Idara, and never returned. But despite Lord Oroku's urgings to give up the search and accept that her father was gone, she simply could not do it. So she lay, awake until all hours of the night, alone with her troublesome thoughts.

Though perhaps fate had something different in mind. Lightning flashed once again, and had she been asleep as she ought to have been, she would have missed the shadowed figure with the drawn knife leaning over her bed. With a sharp intake of breath, she rolled away as the blade came down, and it caught only the edge of her arm, slicing through the thin fabric of her sleeping shift and the skin beneath rather than driving into her heart as its wielder had intended.

April's cry was masked by the thunder, but she had taken the assassin by surprise. He had not expected her to wake, and it was time enough to seize the bedsheets and sling them over his head. As he struggled with them, a formless shape beneath the cloth, she ran. Not for the door, where there were sure to be others waiting, but to the opening beneath the tapestry on the wall that would take her down a hidden corridor to the north wing.

She tried to go quietly, careful not to alert the figure in the next room. She could buy herself time, at least. The only sounds that filled the corridor were her ragged breath and the soft padding of her bare feet against the stones, easily masked by the storm raging outside. But though her progress was as silent as she could make it, her mind was a clamoring tumult to rival the fury of the storm.

_How has this happened? Lord Oroku doubled the guard when my father went missing. How could they have let these assassins past? Why did no one come when I cried out? Why-_

She glanced over her shoulder, watching for pursuit, and so was unprepared for the collision with the figure in the shadows of the corridor before her. Hands locked on her shoulders, stopping her before she could fall, and April drew a breath to scream. A hard hand clamped down over her mouth, and this new attacker pressed April back against the wall. In another moment, however, she recognized the feel of the gauntlets sheathing the hands that held her, and the flickering light of the storm through the filigreed windows high on the walls threw a familiar silhouette into sharp relief.

"Karai…" she breathed as Karai's hand left her mouth, and her hands came up to grip the armour encasing the other girl's arms. "My room! They-"

"I know," Karai said, and her voice was flat, drained of her usual wry, sardonic humour. Karai seized April's wrist, and she began to drag her down the corridor. "We must hurry, highness."

"Your father must hear about this," April said, panting as she tried to ignore the pain in her arm. "He-"

Karai stopped then, and turned to look over her shoulder. And in the unreliable light of the storm, April caught sight of her warden's expression, and felt her heart turn to ice. "No…" she whispered. "Oh, please no…"

"My  _father_ ," Karai said, and the word was dripping with anger and confusion, "has his own ideas about how this kingdom should be run, and you are no longer a part of them." Her hand tightened around April's wrist. "And once I should have been glad of that. But that… that was before I knew you. Now I don't know what to think. But of one thing I am sure." She brought up her other hand, resting it on April's shoulder. "I am your warden, and I am not about to let you die on my watch."

As Karai had spoken, the ice around April's heart had continued to grow, squeezing the breath from her, but at those final words, it cracked, and despite herself, a few tears spilled down her face as lightning flashed once more. Karai tsked, but her voice gentled as she wiped the tears from April's cheeks. "Come, highness. No time for that. It will be dawn soon, and we must get you well away from here before then."

April lurched after Karai as her warden tugged her forward again, her eyes going wide. "Away? But…"

But of course Karai was right. April could not stay. Not if Lord Oroku had decided that she was no longer necessary to his plans. Over the year since her father's disappearance -  _she would_ not _say death_  - Lord Oroku's influence had crept throughout the court and the kingdom so slowly, so inexorably, that she had barely noticed it happening. Until now, as she wracked her brain for somewhere,  _anywhere_ , that she could go for help, and found that she could not come up with a single one that she could trust to be unswayed by the lord who had made himself so indispensable to her father.

Moving away from the outer walls, what little light there was vanished, and April was left with only the creaking leather of Karai's armour to lead her through the dark. She didn't ask where they were going; the smell told her plainly enough: hay and horse, growing stronger as they descended. Finally, after an eternity in the darkness, there was a slight lessening of the endless black as Karai cautiously cracked a door and peered out. "Good. Be quick, highness."

April squeezed through the door into the shelter of the stacked bales of hay that concealed it. Straining on her toes to peer over Karai's shoulder, April could see her horse, waiting and saddled.

"Clear," Karai murmured, and tugged April forward, pushing her toward the horse. Karai reached for a satchel slung across the doorway to the stall, and tossed it at April. "No time to change. You must go quickly." Without waiting for an answer, she unbolted the stall, pushing the door open and leading the horse toward April.

She stared at Karai in mounting horror as she took in just what the bag and the single horse meant.

"You're not coming?" April's voice sounded small and weak in the face of the thunder, and as Karai looked at her, the other woman's expression softened.

"I can't, highness," she said. "Someone must make sure your path is clear." Karai stepped forward, resting both hands on April's shoulders. "You, my princess, are strong, and brave, and stubborn as a thick-headed mule. You can do this."

Smiling despite herself, April drew herself up and nodded. Slinging the bag across her back, she swung herself up in the saddle and turned the horse toward the door. But as she looked down at Karai, a hundred unsaid things rushed to fill her, and she found herself suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. "Karai, I…" Her fingers knotted in the reins.

Her eyes bright with understanding, Karai shook her head. "No time," she said brusquely, and ran for the door. Moments later, April could hear her distant voice calling to the guards on the wall. "A traitor rides for the south gate! Quickly, before she escapes!"

April's hands tightened further, and the horse shifted beneath her, sensing her unease. The wound in her arm burned, and there was a sweat on her brow that dripped into her eyes and stung, and she wiped it away impatiently, trying to still the tremors of fear that shook her limbs. There was nowhere else to go. No other choice. She would have to ride into the Demon Wood, and hope she could make it through before the assassins realized where she had gone.

Or the demons stole her soul.

Drawing a deep breath, she urged the horse forward into the lessening dark.

* * *

She had hoped. For one brief, fleeting moment, she had actually let herself believe that she had gotten away. Then, hours after the rain had stopped and the sun had crested the horizon, as she had allowed her weary horse to choose its own pace along the narrow trail that ran along the edge of the forest, she had heard the undeniable sounds of pursuit behind her.

April urged the horse to run again, but the trail was winding and uneven - few people were brave or foolhardy enough to venture this close to the haunted trees - and it was slow going. Gradually, the sounds of pursuit grew louder, and she knew that she would not evade capture if she continued on this path. With a whimpered plea to the four gods, she hauled on the reins and the horse plunged into the shadowed gloom beneath the trees.

Despite the fear that poured thick through her veins, choking her with the intensity of it, she could not help but feel a little awed as the horse pounded through the verdant wood. She had heard tales of course, friends of friends of a relative who had ventured into the forest on a youthful dare or an attempt to prove their mettle, but nobody she knew had ever gone into the forest. It was dark, and cursed, and dangerous.

Nobody had ever told her it was beautiful.

Massive trees raised gnarled trunks toward the sky, so big that it would have taken ten men standing fingertip-to-fingertip to reach all the way around. The trunks and branches dripped with emerald vines and moss like an elderly lady displaying her fine jewellery, and the forest laid out a soft carpet of ferns beneath to catch shining droplets of moisture as they fell.

They had hesitated, Oroku's men, as afraid of the forest as any of the villagers, but she could hear them pursuing again. Her heels dug into the horse's sides, and she wished desperately that she dared slow long enough to dig her sword and dagger out from the satchel on her back, where she could feel them digging into her spine. But even that delay was too much. She kicked the horse again as it raced along the edge of an embankment, begging with him in hushed tones to continue, to bear her just a little farther.

There was no warning. One moment she was glancing over her shoulder, searching for signs of pursuit, and the next she turned back just in time to see the massive owl, its pale brown feathers practically glowing in the dim, green-tinted light, swoop in front of her in its pursuit of prey. Her horse reared, bellowing in terror, and suddenly the world was spinning. Up was down, and down was up, and she was flying, no, falling, no ground to catch her as the embankment dropped away beneath her. She felt something tear and give way as her feet finally connected with the steep incline, and she screamed in pain as her ankle wrenched backward.

When she finally rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, she could do nothing more than lay for a few moments, panting, staring down at the tattered, mud-stained hem of her shift. It hid the damage in the ankle that radiated pain along the length of her leg, and part of her wished it to stay that way, afraid to see the damage that lay beneath. Her fingers twitched, stirring pine needles and leaves and raising the smell of loam, and she eased herself to a sitting position, biting her lip as even that tiny movement sent another knife of pain stabbing through her ankle. Carefully, she drew her shift away from her foot, and caught her breath at the angry, swollen purple of the joint beneath. April let out a tiny whimper of despair, but no more. She didn't have time for self-pity. It wouldn't take long for Oroku's men to realize that her horse no longer had a rider.

Now, at last, she could ease the satchel around, withdrawing the small, slender weapons within. She buckled the dagger around her waist over her filthy sleeping shift, but the sword she left free. It was long enough to help her ease herself to her feet, just enough to help support her as she gingerly inched forward. Carefully, she took a tentative step.

Instantly, she regretted it, and she tasted blood as she bit down to keep from screaming again. She felt like she was still falling, the ground rolling before her in a way that it had no right to, and she was burning and frozen at once, and her ankle felt as though a hundred knives had stabbed into it, but she still could not afford to stop. For she could once again hear pursuit behind her.

She had no concept of the passage of time as she dragged herself through the trees. All she could focus on was the pain, the tearing sensation in her ankle each time she moved, the stings of the small cuts dug into her bare feet by the sharp sticks and tree needles hidden beneath the ferns, the burning of her breath in her lungs and the wound in her arm and the sweat that poured down her face. She fell, several times, forcing herself back up each time, and it could have been hours or only minutes until the moment when she fell into a cluster of bushes and could not get up again.

For a long while, she could only lie there, shaking from the effort it took to keep from crying. How had she ever thought she could do this? What on earth had possessed her to run into the Demon Wood on her own? Seasoned hunters had perished beneath the shadows of these trees; why had she ever thought that a princess who had barely been outside the city walls could ever manage it?

A soft rustle, barely a sound, caught her attention. Brushing her tangled hair from her eyes, she shifted, her hand slowly lowering a large leaf next to her face until she could see what lay beyond.

A small creek ran next to where she lay sprawled, its waters barely fast enough to make a slight laughing trickle in the air. But it was the creature next to it, its delicate head bent to drink the water, that made her breath catch in her throat.

It resembled a deer somewhat, small and graceful, about half the size of an ordinary deer. Rather than a rack of branching antlers, however, it sported two small horns that twined together above its brow into a single crooked spire. The dappled brown hide looked soft as velvet, and April's fingers itched to touch it despite her current condition.

* * *

 ([x](http://nicollini.tumblr.com/post/60027892533/more-fantasy-au-the-wonderfull-fantasia-wandering))

An eliara. She had heard of them, but thought them only legend. Renowned for their incredible speed, and the allegedly miraculous healing properties of powder made from their horns.

Beyond the eliara, there was a slight shifting of the leaves on the bushes. Slight enough that April would have taken it for no more than the wind, but the eliara raised its head suddenly, its enormous dark eyes searching the glade as crystal droplets of water dripped from its chin to sink into the soft white fur of its chest. It was that warning that gave April pause, making her look deeper, with the concentration that Karai had chided her for ignoring so often. And it was only then that she saw the blue eyes peering from the green face that the bushes concealed.

_Demon…_

Tears slipped down April's face as fear returned, doubled upon doubled. Oroku's men were bad enough - they could only kill her body. But a demon could destroy her soul as well. What had she done to deserve this? She moved, preparing to run, but the eliara was faster, bounding straight toward the bushes where April hid. The demon struck then as well, exploding in a blur of green from its hiding place, and though the eliara was small enough to swerve past April as it leaped into her hiding place, the demon was not so prepared. April had a brief moment of searing pain as the demon collided with her, had a vague awareness of startled blue eyes and rough, scaled fingers grasping at her torn shift, and a scream ripped from her throat as she drew her dagger, slashing toward the creature.

The demon screamed back, nearly as shrill, dodging her strike with inhuman speed and grace, and leaped back toward the creek. April did not wait to see it go, staggering from her now-useless hiding place, screaming again as her abused ankle took her weight, and she stumbled. That stumble saved her, for the next thing she knew, an arm swept through the air where her head had been, and she found herself blinking dumbly up at one of Lord Oroku's men.

The next few moments were a blurred confusion of sound, and noise, and motion, and pain, as she struck desperately with her dagger at the four men who converged on her. She may have been a princess, but Karai did not believe in her charge being defenseless, and April managed to get a hit or two on her assailants before one of them caught her wrist, twisting it, and she dropped the dagger with a cry. And then the confusion grew worse as a green shadow dropped from the trees, two men falling noiselessly beneath the flash of silver in its hands before the others even noticed it was there. April heard the cries of her attackers, the breathless shriek of " _demon!_ ", before they turned and fled back into the trees, and then that green shadow was looming over her. One of the blades in its hands slid into a sheath at its back, and it reached into a pouch at its belt. It drew something from it, dashing it into April's face, and she choked as a sweet dust entered her lungs.

Almost immediately, a languor began to spread through her body, and she sagged back against the ground, her vision clouding over. She was floating, buoyed by the half-sleep the powder had brought, and though it had stolen her will and her ability to move, it had also wrapped her mind in a blissful fog that kept her pain at a distance.

And so it was that she was able to focus on the voices that drifted above her, weaving a net with their words that pinned her and held her fast.

"Mikey! Are you all right?"

"Leo! You _followed_  me?"

"We all followed you," a third voice chimed in, deeper and gruffer than the other two.

"I don't believe this!" the second voice was shrill with frustration. "You didn't trust me at all!"

"Of course we trusted you," added a fourth voice, terse and impatient. "We also _know_  you. We just decided to make ourselves available nearby in case anything happened."

"And a good thing we did," said the gruff voice. "Leo caught a human."

"He  _what_?" cried the impatient voice. "What were you  _thinking_?"

"I was  _thinking_  that she was attacking Mikey and I wasn't going to stand for that." There was a soft sound, like that of flesh lightly striking flesh. "What was I supposed to do, Donnie?"

"Looks like she wasn't alone." The deep voice sounded worried.

"I think they were after her," said the voice of her captor.

"This her blade?" asked the gruff one.

"Yes," came her captor's voice. "This one too."

"It's marked." The gruff voice sounded impressed. "So she fought back." There was a soft laugh. "Good for her."

"That blood could have been Mikey's," said her captor, annoyed.

"Brothers." The voice of the first demon spoke, softer now, more childlike without the thread of frustration running through it, and his voice sounded very close, as though he were kneeling next to her, though she still could see no more than a green blur before her eyes. "She's crying."

There was a shifting around her, the sound of feet drawing closer against the carpet of leaves and tree needles on the forest floor, and the voice of the third drifted down from close to her ear, gentle as it lost the edge of irritation. "I think she's hurt." A hand brushed against her dripping brow, followed by a sharp gasp. "She's burning up. That's not the sleep dust. Something's really wrong."

"So what are we supposed to do?" the gruff one demanded. "She's a human. Nothing good ever comes of humans. They're trouble."

"Not _all_  humans," said the young one.

"Storyteller's different." The gruff voice was defensive now. "I'm not even sure she _is_  human."

"We can't just leave her here," the gentle voice said, scaled hands running carefully over April's limbs, prodding occasionally, and a small whimper worked its way through the fog and the lethargy as those rough fingers brushed across her ankle. "What do we do, Leo?"

There was a long silence, broken only by the soft sounds of the forest creatures, before there came a weary sigh. "We take her to Father and ask him what to do."

There was another long silence before the gentle one asked, "are you sure?"

"It's that or leave her here. You want to do that?"

The hand brushed over her hair once, followed by another sigh. "No."

More hands touched her now, tying a strip of soft cloth across her eyes and binding her hands behind her back, and she groaned as the movement pulled on the burning wound in her arm.

"Is that really necessary?" the gentle one asked.

"Until we know who she is and what she's capable of, we can't- Raph! What are you doing?"

"Taking this armour to Father. Maybe if he knows the crest they're wearing, it'll help us figure her out." There was a soft thud, followed by a derisive snort. " _He's_  not going to be needing it any more."

Then the gentle hands lifted her, cradling her against something cool and hard, and the world swam, the fog growing thicker around her as she went limp against the demon. She was so tired of fighting… it would be so easy to just give up… and yet she clung to consciousness. She had come so far, pushed through so much….

April lost track of time again as they moved through the forest. There was a sense of swiftness, a breeze against her sweat-damp skin, but the demons made almost no sound, and the gentle one was careful not to jostle her wounds any further. At last, a new sound made its way through the song of the forest, growing louder as they drew near, until she could make it out as the thunder of water falling.

"Sorry," the gentle voice murmured. "This is going to be a little cold…"

She felt the demon move, shifting around her as though to shield her from something, but despite its best efforts, a wave of chill water slammed into her, icy against her fevered skin, and she cried out in shock and pain.

_"What in the name of the ancestors do you mean by this?"_

This voice was new, and rang through the air with an unmistakable authority. There was a moment of stunned shock from the four demons, before four voices began tumbling over one another in an attempt to explain.

"Enough!"

Silence fell again, and soft footsteps approached. "Donatello. Explain."

"She's hurt, Father," said the gentle one. "Her ankle, and a cut on her arm, and some other scratches, but there's something else. She's feverish, and the sleep sand wouldn't have done that to her."

New hands moved against her arm, parting the ragged, blood-soaked fabric of her shift, and the new voice, this father of demons, let out a soft oath under his breath. "I know that scent. The blade that made this was poisoned." He let the cloth fall back against her skin. "The toxin is an insidious one, but she caught only the edge of it. Fortunate for her, it would seem."

"There were men after her," said the leader's voice.

"They were wearing this," added the gruff one.

"Can we keep her?" the youngest asked, followed by a brief retort that sounded like a slap, and a muffled, "...ow."

The sound that this Father made spoke volumes. It spoke of weariness, and mistrust, and a fear of future regret, and helpless resignation. "Lay her here. There are things we must prepare, and quickly, if we are to save her."

She was moved again, laid down on something that was blissfully soft after the unforgiving forest floor, and as she was shifted, her awareness began to fade. She could hear the Father's voice continuing to bark instructions, the movements and shouts of the demons around her as they hurried to obey. But she could make out none of it until a hand rested against her brow, not scaled, but soft. The Father's voice spoke again, wrapping around her like gentle silk.

"You can rest now, child. You are in our hands, and we will not let you fall. Trust in us, and sleep."

And with that final, serene permission, April let herself slip away into darkness.

* * *

"[The Cast](http://nicollini.tumblr.com/post/62656958860/i-tested-my-new-pencils-today-d)" by Nicollini

[The Family](http://nicollini.tumblr.com/post/60344021704/does-anybody-want-to-draw-fantasy-au-turtles-d), [April and Karai](http://nicollini.tumblr.com/post/59626591621/fantasy-au-doodles-d-and-hello-karai-she-is-the) by Nicollini


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which April's mysterious rescuers are revealed, and even greater questions are raised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unless otherwise indicated, any drawings that appear throughout the text are Nicollini's illustrations.

It was a cruel irony that April had finally achieved the sleep that had been denied her all these weeks, for though she slept deeply, her dreams were dark, and cruel. She dreamed of shadows in the night, bearing long blades that bit and cut into her. She dreamed of those she had thought to be friends turning their backs on her, only to reveal that they had two faces, and that the hidden face was a twisted, leering thing with dark eyes and sharp fangs. She dreamed of being pursued relentlessly through gnarled, grasping trees, unable to stop though her feet had been cut into so badly that she feared to look down lest she see that they were gone.

And she dreamed of her father. Lost in a dark, featureless place, she heard the familiar, beloved voice calling her name. She ran, stumbling through the dark, until he appeared before her, and his loving smile warmed her like nothing had been able to since he had vanished.

But when she touched him, the smile vanished from his face. Cracks appeared, spreading through his skin like fissures through ice, and then he shattered, falling apart like an empty suit of armour.

 _That_  dream brought her partway to waking, and she thrashed, crying out against the dark. But there were hands to catch her, and voices, soft and kind. They brought cool cloths to her brow, and a bowl of something to her lips, warm and astringent, that tingled as she swallowed and left her pleasantly numb in its wake. A gentle hand, moving against her hair, softly, soothing. The voices, one above all the others, lulling her back to sleep.

When she slept again, the dreams left her untroubled.

* * *

It was some time later that she woke truly, and it was not an instantaneous transition from sleep into waking, but more of a long, slow slide. She became aware first of the music that surrounded her. A chorus of birdsong, and insects humming, and beneath it all, the faint, faraway thrumming of falling water mixing with the softer song of a smaller trickle nearby. It was chaotic, and wild, and beautiful, and she felt that she might almost understand it if she could just listen a little more closely.

More senses began to return, and the air she breathed was redolent with the green scents of growing things. There was moss, and loam, and other scents as well. Herbs, and flowers, wrapping her in the perfume of the forest until she was floating on it.

Softness, then, beneath her. Something covering her, enveloping her in warmth.

Only then was she able to open her eyes, and they watered from the brightness around her. Raising a hand to shield them, she winced a little as the movement pulled on the wound in her arm—

Her eyes widened as memory flooded back to her, and she bolted upright with a breathless gasp. Her hand went to the wound the assassin's knife had left –  _did she remember something about poison? –_  but her questing fingers encountered a tightly-wrapped bandage over the wound. Her tattered, blood-soaked sleeping shift was gone; in its place was a shapeless tunic of a pale brown homespun. It was a little rough beneath her fingertips, but it was also clean, and dry, and warm beneath the sunlight. Warily, she tugged it up a little, but the ankle beneath was wrapped as well as her arm, and didn't look nearly as frighteningly swollen as it had before. There were more bandages on her feet, the wrappings neat and expertly done.

"What th-ahhh, you're awake!"

April let out a small squeak at the outburst that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once and echoed around her, but try as she might, craning her neck first one way and then the other, she couldn't find the speaker. Though perhaps one soft sound might have been the echo of footsteps retreating down a corridor, and she thought she recognized the voice as belonging to one of the demons. The gentle, impatient one, if she was not mistaken.

And then there was no room for wondering, for her vision finally cleared enough to take in the room around her, and was overcome for a moment by the magnitude of it all. Verdant green stretched away around her, sloping gently upward to walls painted green by moss and vines. She lay on a soft pallet in a pool of sunlight, surrounded by a garden of herbs that bobbed bright floral heads toward her as a few solitary bees went about their business. Further out, a garden of ferns stretched away to the leafy bushes that grew up against the rough rock walls, giving rise to tangled vines that climbed toward the stone vaults overhead. Next her lay a clear pond, a few lilies drifting on its surface and swirling in the eddies left by a trickling waterfall that tumbled down from the opening in the roof of ...wherever she was. Sunlight poured down upon her, bright and warm, illuminating the motes dancing in the air as her breath stirred them. This place... it was magical. She had never seen anything like it. But as she continued to stare, a chill of unease crept over her, and she drew the tunic more tightly around her. She could see no doors, and the opening above her was impossibly far away. Was this some sort of prison then?

"Ah. So you have truly rejoined us at last."

The voice that drifted through the cavern was familiar, though it gave her a start, for she had heard no one approach. Squinting against the light, she thought she could make out a shadow between the bushes on the far side of the cave. But it was far too tall – and shaped too strangely – to ever be mistaken for human.

She supposed that she should have been afraid, but the memory of the soft voices and gentle hands was still upon her, and so she settled for hugging her arms tightly around her as she nodded. "Please," she said. "Why have you brought me here?"

"Do not be afraid," the voice told her, and she frowned at it.

"I'm  _not_  afraid."

A soft chuckle drifted through the cavern, laughing at her boldness, though not unkindly. "Very well. But I hope you can remain so fierce as we discuss your situation face to face."

The bushes rustled softly, and the shadow moved toward her, and it was all April could do to fight back the scream that bubbled up from the back of her throat. But the remembered gentleness, and the care with which her various hurts had been wrapped, forced it back and kept it at bay as she made herself look at him without fear.

 _Rat_. It was the only suitable word for him, if a rat grew to the height of the tallest of men. He was clad strangely, in loose trousers of a dark brown fabric, which ended in wraps that extended over his feet... April's glance shied away from the three-toed foot and the alien way that the fourth toe protruded from it. The trousers were belted with a strip of black material, and his only other garment was a long, sleeveless hooded robe of a light brown fabric that hung open, exposing the white patterning against the dark fur of his chest. His arms were covered in the same paler wraps as his feet, and around his upper left arm he bore a binding of dark brown, the ends hanging loose, though April could not fathom what purpose it might have served.

Steeling herself, she forced herself to look at the rest of him now. The brown and white fur covering his body. The cupped ears, so thin that light shone through them at the ends. The long, narrow muzzle, and the serpentine tail twining about his feet. But it was his eyes, and the kindness in them, that made her truly believe for the first time that she might look on him without fear. "What..." she began, but could not finish. In light of the depths of wisdom and intelligence she could see in the warmth of his brown eyes, the question suddenly seemed unforgivably rude.

"What am I?" He finished her sentence for her, and she flushed deeply. But he only chuckled again, one hand drifting up to stroke the thin beard that hung from his chin. "Your kind would call me a demon. But in the land from which I came, my people have another name. We call ourselves 'kerema', and there my kind lives in peace with yours." He inclined his head. "The race to which my sons belong is shy and reclusive, but they are known there as well. There, they are called 'kappa.'"

"Your..." her head reeled as her understanding of the world began to shift beneath her. "So... you aren't demons?"

"No," he said. "We are not. Though I will admit that the stories of our monstrous nature have served to keep undesirable attention away from us and our home, so I cannot be entirely ungrateful for that."

"So... if you don't want to eat my soul," she said slowly. "Why am I here?"

There was a soft sound from the edge of the cavern to her left, a muffled exclamation of disgust, and the gruff voice was familiar. She stared at the tangle of moss and vines that covered the wall, and only when she let her eyes unfocus, descending into the place of observation Karai had taught her, did she see the wary green eyes staring back at her.

Her breath caught a little; now that she had seen him, she could not believe that she had missed him before. He reclined against the wall, tension written in every line of his body as he stared at her. His green skin blended perfectly with the dappled greenery on the wall, and even the braided belt around his waist and straps across his chest that held some manner of wooden weapons across his back could have been mistaken for more of the trailing vines that clung to the walls around him. The only thing that could not be mistaken for part of the forest was the strip of deep crimson fabric bound around his upper left arm, but that was mostly hidden by an overhanging branch.

"You were gravely injured," the rat said, gesturing toward her arm, but April was staring past him. There was a second kappa behind him, in the shadow of the bushes, watching her with guarded concern. Two sword hilts peeped over his shoulder, marking him as the one who had captured her, and the binding around his arm was blue.

"I think I remember," she said, her hand brushing against the dressing on her arm. "Something about... about poison?"

"Yes," he answered her, and there was pity in his expression. "You are fortunate my sons decided to bring you here, for if they had left you where you were, it would have finished you, even if the soldiers chasing you had not. Even so, it was a near thing. But my people have knowledge of such things, and my son and I were able to prepare an infusion that neutralized most of the toxin's effects."

As he spoke, he glanced toward the wall near the waterfall, and following his gaze, April found the third one. He leaned against a bladed spear, watching intently, but when her gaze fell upon him, he started. His expression softened into an almost bashful smile, revealing a small gap between his teeth, and he ducked his head as colour rose to his cheeks.  He, too, bore the binding around his arm, though his was a deep violet, and April remembered flashes of that colour accompanying the gentle voice that had woven through her dreams.

"Then... I owe you my life." April bowed her head. "I cannot even begin to thank you."

The rat folded his arms. "You may begin by telling us why the men who pursued you bear the sigil of Oroku Saki."

Shivering, April wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. "Lord Oroku came to our court almost fifteen years ago," she said. "He was my father's most trusted advisor. Only... I believe that he never intended to settle for merely being the voice behind the throne. I think, this whole time, he must have wanted it for himself."

There was a gasp from the ferns next to her, and April let out a small squeak as she was suddenly faced with a familiar pair of blue eyes, which widened as they stared at her. "But that means..." The youngest demon, the one who started this whole ordeal, leaped from the ferns next to her, dancing from foot to foot as he pointed at her. "She's the princess! Brothers, we have a  _princess_! In our  _house!_ " He laughed, dropping to his knees beside her pallet. "This is  _much_  better than a parakeet."

"She's not a pet!" the gruff one protested.

"And we can't keep her," said her captor.

"Why not?" the gentle one demanded.

April, for her part, was too busy gazing at the shell that the youngest's leap into the light had revealed. "You're turtles!" she blurted out.

"Kappa!" the four corrected in one voice.

But all of them fell silent as their father raised a hand. "My sons," he said to April, by way of introduction, and gestured to each in turn. "Leonardo. Donatello. Michelangelo. And Raphael." The names were strange, unlike any she had ever heard, but there was a rightness to them as well, that seemed to fit these strange creatures.

She blushed a little, suddenly finding herself the focus of a great deal of attention. "I'm April," she said, and tilted her head to regard the kerema. "And you are?"

He smiled at her, and inclined his head in return. "I am called Splinter," he said.

"Well then... Splinter." April folded her hands in her lap. "Will you tell me how long I am to be a prisoner here?"

That was met with gasps from the four turtles around her, and Michelangelo rocked back on his heels. "April," he said, his voice gently chiding. "We  _rescued_  you. You're not a prisoner. Tell her, Father." He looked expectantly up at the kerema, but Splinter remained silent, and Michelangelo's carefree grin faded to an expression of bewilderment.

"Father?" Donatello stepped forward, his hands tightening on his spear. "Tell her she's not a prisoner."

But Splinter only looked at her, a mixture of resolution and regret in his face. "You must understand, princess, I have spent the last fifteen years ensuring my sons' safety by keeping this place – and them – a secret."

April nodded. "I understand. So I feel it is my duty to inform you that as heir to the throne of this kingdom, I am honour bound to attempt to escape."

Splinter's ear twitched, and she could have sworn that he was fighting back a smile. "And it is my duty to inform you that as patriarch and arts master of this tribe, I am honour bound to stop you."

"Good." April dusted off her hands. "We have an understanding."

"Indeed," Splinter said, and there were definite hints of laughter in his voice now.

Michelangelo, meanwhile, was looking from one to another with steadily increasing shades of bewilderment on his face. "Wait... what just  _happened?_ "

"I think they just negotiated an armistice," Leonardo said, and for the first time, the look he turned on April was something other than serious. He smiled a little as he gave her the barest of nods, acknowledging the situation for what it was, and she returned it.

"Now then," Splinter said. "Let us have some tea. You shall remain here – it is my son's expert opinion that the sunshine will do you good." His tone was lightly teasing as he rested a hand against Donatello's shoulder in passing. "And who am I to argue with his expertise?"

Donatello reddened again as Splinter walked toward the bushes at the far end of the cavern with Leonardo and Raphael in tow. April watched curiously as they vanished, realizing for the first time that there was some sort of curtain behind the bushes that concealed the rest of... of wherever this place was from view.

She turned her attention to Donatello as he sat next to her, and gestured at her ankle. "So do I have you to thank for this?"

"Huh?" he blinked, suddenly awkward, and reddened even further. "Oh, yes. Your feet are put together a little bit differently than ours, but Father has some healing texts, and I was able to figure out the best wrapping to speed the healing of your strange joints." He gasped, his eyes widening. "N-not that I think you're strange! Just your feet! But they're very nice. Feet, I mean. I—"

Michelangelo slapped a hand over his brother's mouth, stopping the babble mid-stream, and tugged lightly at the loose end of the binding that covered the wound on April's arm. "How's your arm feel? It looked really scary for a while, and you were really sick. But Donnie and Master Splinter looked in the dusty old books they have, and found the recipe for a potion that made you better!"

Donatello tugged his brother's hand away from his mouth. "More of a restorative antidote, really," he said. "And Father knew most of it – kerema are masters of herblore, you know."

"No, I didn't," April said, and he blushed again.

"Amongst other things," Splinter's dry voice drifted across the space toward them as he returned. He and the two turtles accompanying him each held two steaming cups in their hands, and Splinter handed one to April.

She took it gratefully, for despite the warmth of the sunlight, she was starting to shiver, and beads of cold sweat pricked at her brow. She wrapped her hands around the warm cup, breathing in the fragrant steam before drinking deeply. With a soft sigh, she let the heat of the tea spread through her, warming her from the inside out.

"I'm sorry to have to ask this," Leonardo said as he handed one of the cups he carried to Donatello. "But do you think that more men are likely to come looking for you?"

April stared down at the tea for a moment. "Not likely," she said. "The stories people tell about demons in the woods are..." She took an uncomfortable sip of her tea. "Not kind. Chances are, the ones who got away have told him that I'm already dead. Just like—"  _Like my father._  But the words wouldn't come past the lump in her throat, and she took another large gulp of tea to clear it.

"Well," said Raphael, who had dropped down next to Michelangelo. "At least that gives us some time to figure this mess out."

"What's to figure out," Michelangelo said, setting down his tea so that he could gesture emphatically without getting it all over Raphael. "You guys never let me keep anything! Now we've got a princess!"

"We let you keep one thing," Leonardo pointed out, sipping his tea.

Michelangelo pouted. "Only because you make her work!"

Following the bemusing exchange was growing difficult, and April brought her hands to her temples, rubbing gently. "What I don't understand," she said, "is how you recognized the sigil that Lord Oroku's men wore. Forgive me, but I don't imagine that you are much at court."

Splinter's expression darkened, his fingers tightening around his own cup. "Saki's reach is long, and he is not unknown to us. But it is a long tale, and not quite appropriate for the moment."

"Why?" April asked. "What..." She trailed off, clinging to her empty cup. "What..." She blinked, but it did nothing to clear the blurring in her eyes, or the way the room was spinning around her. "What...did you put... in the tea?"

The cup fell from her numb fingers, and she began to tip sideways. With a soft cry, Donatello moved, tossing his cup to Leonardo and diving for her in the same movement, so that it was his arms that caught her and not the rocks beside her pallet. The arms were not unfamiliar, either, and brought back sudden memories of being borne through the forest and beneath an icy spray.  _Ah. So it_ was _you._  She stared up at him, her mouth struggling to shape words that would not come, and she saw on his face that he could read the fear and betrayal in her eyes.

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that," Donatello said quickly. "Just more of the antidote, and it makes you sleepy. You'll be fine. I promise."

"Indeed," Splinter said. "The toxin is a pernicious one. You will recover, I am certain of that, but you have more healing to do. Rest now, and we will come to a solution when you are well."

She didn't have much of a choice; the herbs in the tea were doing their work well, numbing her senses and bearing her off to the darkness again. But at the very end, just before sleep claimed her entirely, she could feel Donatello laying her carefully down on the pallet again, and something soft covering her, keeping her warm against the chill of the poison still creeping through her system. And when the rough, three-fingered hand stroked her hair again, there was a strange comfort in it, and she slept without fear or dreaming.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if not otherwise indicated, all drawings are by nicollini.

April woke once that night, very briefly. At first, she was only aware of the darkness, and a warmth that swaddled her in softness. Then, as her eyes and ears began to remember themselves and remember that they, too, had a job to do, the darkness filled with the glow of firelight and the soft crackling of flames. After a long, puzzled moment, she realized that she hung suspended in some kind of hammock, securely wrapped in blankets and furs, and as she gazed overhead, the firelight flickered across rough stone decorated in charcoal and in pigments of red and white. The figures drawn onto the rock bore shells on their backs -- save for the tall figure with the pointed muzzle and the long tail -- and they cavorted across the walls and ceiling in what looked to be some sort of elaborate dance. Interspersed with the turtles were other drawings: trees, flowers, animals, and occasionally handprints. The drawings and handprints alternated between blocks of solid pigment, splattering slightly around the edges as though the artist had applied them with great excitement and force, and in unpainted rock surrounded by pigment, as though the artist had become bored with his project halfway through and decided to see just how many different ways there were in which to draw a handprint.

“Do you really think we can trust her, Father?”

April turned her head very slightly, just enough to see the five figures seated around a fire in the centre of the cave. Smoke drifted from the fire, yet the air was clean, for it curled upward to a hole in the roof of the cave to be whisked away somewhere it wouldn’t be a bother. Beyond the fire, the light illuminated the frame of two beds, one atop the other. That explained where two of them slept, at least. She presumed there were other such arrangements situated where she could not see them without sitting up, which would draw more attention than she cared to at present. Belatedly, she realized that she was probably in someone’s bed at that very moment, and felt a quiet pang of guilt as she wondered whom she was displacing.

“I trust that she will be true to her word and attempt to flee,” Splinter said in answer to Leonardo’s question, though there was amusement in his voice.

“After all we’ve done for her?” Michelangelo asked plaintively.

A snort from Raphael was his response. “What, you mean throw sleep sand at her, tie her up, and kidnap her?”

“The saving her life part wasn’t so bad.” Donatello muttered, poking at the fire with a stick.

“True,” Splinter agreed, resting a hand against Donatello’s shell. “But she has little more reason to trust us than we have to trust her. At the very least, I do not believe that there is any malice in her heart.” He sighed softly, patting the shell beneath his hand before he moved to sit next to the fire. “We must have patience, my sons. A solution will present itself in time.”

There was more, but sleep drew April down again. Cocooned in warmth as the hammock swung gently, she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

When April woke again, it was to find the cave empty. She sat up slowly, every muscle tense as she peered warily over the edge of the hammock, but she truly had been left alone. Blinking, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and took stock of her surroundings. It was dim in the cave without the light of the fire, the pit at the centre of the room now cold and empty, but the low light had less to do with the time of day than it did to the fact that heavy curtains stitched together from thick fabric and animal hide hung on either end of the room. She could see the outline of light beyond each one, and her brow lifted. Surely one led to the garden she had found herself in the first time she woke, but the other...

She shifted to look further over the edge, and squeaked as the hammock shifted, gripping at it for dear life. As it happened, it was a long way down, particularly when an injured ankle awaited her. But as she twisted, trying to find another way out of her predicament, she discovered that the end of the hammock nearest her head was anchored to a thick log that had been wedged upright, snug between the floor and the ceiling of the alcove in which the hammock hung. Someone had helpfully carved a series of notches to serve as hand- and foot-holds into the sturdy wood.

Perfect.

Biting her lip, April eased herself out of the hammock, letting her arms and her uninjured leg take her weight. The cuts on the foot of her good leg still stung as she crept her way down the stump, but the pain was far more bearable than it had been. After a seeming eternity she found herself securely on solid ground again, and she let out her breath in a long sigh.

The quiet sound was met by an imperious cry from the ground at her feet. Startling, April looked down and found a pair of wide golden eyes staring back at her. The cat seated before her was enormous – larger by far than the cats that prowled the stables at home, with tiny, folded ears and a series of handsome dark spots dappling her grey coat.

“Hello,”April said softly, easing herself down as best she could and holding out a hand. “Where did you come from?”

The cat sniffed at her hand for a moment before a rough tongue lapped against her skin, and the cat butted her head against April’s hand in a clear order. Smiling despite herself, April obliged and scratched behind the cat’s ears. “And who exactly is the princess here?” she whispered. The cat blinked at her and let out another commanding mew before trotting toward one of the curtains and vanishing beneath it.

“Well,” April murmured. “I suppose that answers that question.”

Gingerly, using the wall for support, April managed to limp her way toward the curtain.

As she pushed past it, the ceaseless background roar of the waterfall grew louder, and she finally understood why. The tunnel beyond the curtain stretched toward daylight, but at the bottom of the gradual downward slope, the mouth of the tunnel was completely covered by another curtain -- this one made of falling water. Making her careful way down the incline, still clinging to the wall, she was able to make out the narrow path that led past the waterfall to the outside world. She let out a soft, breathless laugh at the cleverness of it – there was no way anyone on the shore beyond would be able to see the tunnel behind the water, and the curtain at the end of the tunnel ensured that even at night when a fire burned in the cave, no light would reach the tunnel’s entrance to give them away. She marvelled at the fact that anyone had found the cavern in the first place, for it was masterfully hidden. As she thought about it, she wasn’t entirely sure whether she was comforted or unsettled by the idea that no one would ever find her while she remained hidden behind the waterfall.

Inching forward, just a little further, she was finally able to see that she was not alone after all.

The waterfall tumbled into a small, deep pool, and her demons gambolled in the clearing on the other side. April’s hand drifted down to her hip, but of course they had not left her with her dagger. Her mouth twisting in a wry grin, April leaned forward, attempting to see just what it was that they were up to.

They moved together, twisting and twining around each other in some kind of dance that took them over and around each other and in and out of the trees. Furrowing her brow, she crept forward again, straining to see beyond the veil of the waterfall. She was fairly certain that the dance they performed was the one depicted in the colourful artwork that adorned the walls and ceiling of the cave…

But then Leonardo grabbed Raphael’s wrist as Raphael’s hand shot out toward him, and with a graceful twist that would have done any dancer proud, he rolled Raphael over his shoulder. The other turtle… demon… kappa… ended up on his back with Leonardo’s blade pressed against his throat, and April realized that it wasn’t any sort of dance at all.

They were fighting. With far more grace and agility than any warrior she had ever seen, but there was no other way to describe what was happening. While Leonardo pinned his brother, Donatello pursued Michelangelo, intent on delivering the same treatment that Leonardo had given Raphael. Their movements were ceaseless and fluid, bringing them together over and over before breaking them apart again. At last, the taller kappa leaped, and the long bladed spear became a blur in his hands as he brought it to bear and plunged toward Michelangelo.

Despite herself, April let out a small squeak of alarm, shifting instinctively as the youngest kappa braced himself for the attack. That small movement was enough to bring her weight down on her injured ankle, and she found herself crying out in earnest as she overbalanced, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against the rock as she toppled toward the churning surface of the pool.

But she didn’t hit the water.

Opening the eyes she had squeezed shut as she had braced herself for the shock of the icy pool, she found herself looking up into Donatello’s concerned brown eyes. “You caught me!” she said cleverly, and Donatello let out a self-conscious giggle as he ducked his head, blushing.

“Perhaps our guest would be more comfortable on the shore,” came Splinter’s serene voice from the shadows of the forest, and Donatello shook himself a little.

“Oh,” he said, glancing over at the bank where the others had gathered and were watching with undisguised amusement. The flush on his cheeks intensified. “Yes, of course.”

He hefted April a little more securely against him, and her arms went around him almost automatically, seeking security despite the fact that she had the utmost confidence in the strength of the arms that held her. Donatello carried her quickly along the narrow path that wound around the rocky boundary of the pool, leaping the gaps where the path vanished entirely, until they were safe on the grassy shore. April, meanwhile, looked back at the intermittent pathway with a scowl on her face. There would be absolutely no navigating that mess until her ankle was well. But as Donatello set her atop a large boulder, she offered him her most courteous smile.

“That was very kind of you,” she said, eliciting another giggle from him before he coughed and gestured at her ankle.

“How does it feel today?” he asked.

“Much better,” she said, feeling the colour rise to her own cheeks beneath his scrutiny. “Thank you.”

“You seem much improved this morning, highness,” Splinter said, materializing from the undergrowth in a manner that made her start a little. He leaned on the green staff he held as he regarded her with clinical curiosity. “Does your head still trouble you as well.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “Thank you again for your care.”

A soft mew from the rocks above interrupted them, and something wet and slimy dropped down on April. She bit back a shriek as it flopped against her shoulder, and Donatello’s hand lashed out to save her from her attacker. Which turned out to be a rather large fish. Glancing up, she found the cat perched on the rocks above her, looking immensely proud of herself.

“Aww, you met Klunk!” Michelangelo cried, appearing on her other side. “And she likes you!”

April blinked at him. “Shouldn’t she?”

“Oh sure,” Michelangelo said with a wave of his hand. “But she usually takes a long time to warm up to people.”

Donatello set the fish into a basket that sat tethered just below the surface of the pool, earning him a grateful look from April as the pungent fishy smell went with it, and she returned her attention to Michelangelo. “And what sort of name is Klunk?”

“It’s her name,” he answered proudly. “I named her myself. She’s the first pet I brought home that Leo actually let me keep! Until you.”

Leo, coming up behind his brother, rested a hand on Michelangelo’s head. “Klunk’s useful,” he said. “It’s one less fish we have to catch.”

“Family doesn’t have to be useful, Leo,” Michelangelo said with a scowl. “They just have to like you.”

“Good thing too, or we wouldn’t be able to keep you, either,” Raphael put in.

Michelangelo glared at him. “Hey!” An instant later, his face brightened. “Aw! See, I knew you liked me, Raph.”

Raphael’s face darkened. “Wait a second--”

“If I may ask,” April ventured, ignoring the ‘pet’ comment for now. Klunk leaped to the boulder, and April grunted a little as the wildcat draped herself across her lap and spilled over on either side, all the while purring so hard it made April’s teeth vibrate. “What is it that you four were doing just now?”

Splinter gave a quiet chuckle as the kappa drew nearer. “It is an ancient art in Umaya. There are many wonders in my homeland, but many dangers as well, and the ability to protect oneself and one’s family is considered a point of great honour.”

“Father has been teaching us the warrior’s art since we were very young,” Leonardo said.

“The warrior’s…” April relented to Klunk’s incessant nudging at her hand and scratched the purring cat between the ears. “Is that what you meant by ‘arts master’?”

“Yes...and no,” Splinter answered. “The warrior’s art is just one of four that an arts master must acquire in order to earn that title. It is, however, one of the most difficult.”

She looked over the four earnest, open faces that regarded her, and her attention drifted to the weapons held in the hands of three of them. A streak of hot, sudden anger flashed through her. They had kidnapped her and were holding her against her will, she had not forgotten that, but there was a kindness and innocence to them despite that, and it roused something ferocious within her to see them bearing the tools of war. She turned to Splinter with a look of challenge in her eye. “And is this art usually taught to children?”

But Splinter only smiled. “No. And yes.” He gestured to the ground and the four kappa arranged themselves around April’s boulder, their faces turned to their father expectantly. “To understand, you must first know how we came to be the family that we are.”

Michelangelo scooted a little closer, tugging on April’s uninjured foot. “It’s a sad story,” he whispered. “It’s okay if you want to cry a little.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” she whispered back, and he smiled happily, settling next to Raphael.

“Fourteen years ago,” Splinter began, “my life as I knew it ended in one night. In rapid succession, I lost one of the dearest friends I have ever known, and was accused of a terrible crime I did not commit. In order to save my own life, I was forced to accept a sentence of exile, and in time, I came to this land. I had known of the fear your people have for those who appear… different, as I do. But I had not known the full extent of it, nor the cruelty to which such fear can drive even decent men. I learned very quickly to avoid your kind whenever possible, and keep myself to the depths of this forest.”

April found her cheeks heating with embarrassment on behalf of her people, but she said nothing. There was nothing in his story she could refute. Until a few short days ago, she had been one of those people.

“It was not long after I arrived in what you so quaintly call the Demon Forest that I came across a group of hunters in the wood. They were quite excited about the creature they had captured, so I followed them. And what I found…”

Michelangelo turned his face to his brother’s shoulder, and Raphael wrapped an arm around him in answer.

Splinter sighed heavily. “They had captured and killed a kappa. I saw her death from my hiding place, and could not believe what I had seen. Kappa are skilled woodcrafters, excellent at remaining unseen, and yet this one had allowed a group of hunters of only middling skill to capture her. And that was when I realized that she had let them see her. Because she needed to draw their attention away from something else.”

He rested a hand against Leonardo’s shell as the elder kappa edged toward him. “So I followed the hunters’ trail back to where it had diverted in pursuit of the kappa. And it was there that I found her nest. And her children.”

April had been humouring Michelangelo earlier, but she could not help the tears that stung her eyes and dampened her cheeks now. She could see it in her mind’s eye, with a terrible clarity that she wished she could unsee, and it made her heart ache with a physical pain. Donatello quietly reached into one of the pouches on his belt and withdrew a scrap of soft fabric. She accepted it gratefully, wiping at her face as Splinter continued, his contemplative gaze locked firmly on April’s tear-streaked face.

“The young ones were frightened, and hungry. And I knew as soon as I set eyes on them that I could not leave them there to await a mother who would not return. There was no sign of any kappa nearby, and though I waited as long as I could, no family came for them. So I brought them back with me, to the refuge I had created here. And it was not long before it became clear that we were, in fact, a family. Not one I had ever thought to create for myself when I was young and untried, but one I would not give up now for the world.”

His gaze hardened, and April flinched despite herself. “Do you understand, highness, why I train my sons to defend themselves from the world in which they live?”

“Yes,” April whispered, and her breath caught. “I am sorry.”

Splinter’s expression softened, and he shook his head. “You were concerned for the well being of my sons. There is no need to apologize for that. It is a feeling I understand all too well.”

Michelangelo stared up at her, his blue eyes wide, and he tugged anxiously on the edge of the rough shift she wore. “Please don’t cry, April. It’s okay now. Really. We’re okay.”

Donatello’s face showed as much concern as his brother’s, and he nodded earnestly. “Our story had a sad start, but we’re really happy here. You…” he blushed and glanced away. “You could be, too.”

At that, April and Splinter exchanged a look of mutual understanding, and Splinter patted his son’s shell lightly. “Let us concentrate on getting her highness well, first. We shall deal with the rest as we come to it.” He tapped his stick against the ground in a silent command, and the four kappa obeyed instantly, ranging themselves through the trees that ringed the pool.

Splinter looked down at her and gestured toward the kappa, now all but invisible in the dappled foliage. “Would you like to observe their training?”

“Oh, yes,” April exclaimed, hugging Klunk closer. The cat redoubled her purrs and burrowed her head beneath April’s arm in reply. “Yes, please.”

“Very well,” the kerema said with a gentle smile, and turned back to his children. “Begin!”

The graceful, deadly games began again, but as intently as April watched the kappa as they moved through the cover of the forest, she found herself losing track of them more often than not, and in those moments, she watched Splinter instead. And as she did so, she marveled that she could have mistaken the look on his face for anything other than overwhelming love and pride.


End file.
